


Deprivation Clarity

by milky (milky_teacup)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, shance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-23 13:39:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7465554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milky_teacup/pseuds/milky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Shiro's Galra prosthetic malfunctions, it takes patience and good leadership skills to wait out for assistance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deprivation Clarity

**Author's Note:**

> I hope that you enjoy! <3  
> \- milky

Deprivation Clarity

#

#

“Cheap tactic.” The sweat that dabbed Lance's brow was proof enough to him that Lance didn't mean it.

“It's not cheap when it's all you've got to work with.”Shiro told him gently while removing the fingers that pulsed a steady glow of death before glory. He could see the electric lavender reflect off Lance's eyes, showing just how close his team partner's head had been to it.

“No, you misunderstand. Hand-to-hand combat isn't what I'm questioning here. It's just that you can't really call it 'hand-to-hand' anything when your main weapon of choice isn't a bayard but, in fact, your entire arm.”

At that, Shiro gave a small laugh. “I suppose that's true.” Unconsciously, he clenched and released the mechanical fingers of his prosthetic, only giving them a side glance of recognition. “Not that you were questioning it when you joined me for a spar.”

Lance smiled meekly, “Right, we all know I'm shitty at picking my own battles. My bad. It's just,” he gestured at all of Shiro, “well, if it weren't for the hot melting death grip of your photon torpedo hand, I'm _almost_ certain I could take you in an actual fight.”

A smile.“You're right, you _are_ shitty at picking your own battles.” Shiro parroted back with a chuckle. Lance protested fully but with a smile on his lips, making Shiro laugh a little more. “Don't sweat it. If you're done, you're done, yeah? No harm no foul.”

“Oh no,” Lance told him mid-step up from the back wall, a finger already waving in the air to punctuate his next point, “like hell I'm going to let you walk out of here telling the guys I pussied out over a little light show. I'm still game. Just give me some warning next time? I don't think Allura's pods are suited for decapitation.” And even though Lance told him that with a good intentions. Shiro felt himself almost try to back out. Controlling his prosthetic at will was still vaguely new to him even if during the heat of battle he felt he could hull out an entire command deck. While it wasn't wise to put it to the test during routine sparring with an actual flesh-and-blood opponent, he knew that learning more control would be key to prevent any more of the Galra from making him feel less like a man and more like a war puppet. He nodded to himself. Okay. If Lance thought he could do it, then why not?

Shiro took a few steps back and began circling Lance as they both prepared their positions. “I'm not going to hold back,” he warned, although he was sure they both knew he would.

“The training bot has planted my ass on nearly every inch of this floor. I'd be insulted if you didn't show it the same respect.”

“The floor or your ass?” he smiled, holding his stance.

Lance winked, “Well, you're about to kiss one of them.”And Lance initiated attack.

Between the two of them, it was obvious that Shiro was built for taking force while Lance, still rather fresh from the Garrison, had agility and tactical focus on his side. It wasn't that he couldn't keep up more so that Lance had the combat advantage. The way he moved could have been mistaken for water with how quick the boy flowed from one place to another. Just when Shiro thought he had the upper hand, there Lance went again almost as graceful as a dancer from his grip, landing something unforgiving in his back side and causing him to side step.

Bayards aside, Lance was a decent opponent on his own and it thrilled his competitive side. Just when he thought he could go offensive, Lance was there again colliding into him and forcing his defense. When nearly surprised by an attack, it took much of Shiro's attention to stop himself from moving his prosthetic into a lethal position. Stunting the glow from forming gave Lance an opening which he took to deliver a hard foot straight into his chest, sending him back to collide unto the floor. He hit with a heavy thud before skidding into the back wall. That had hurt, but he had little time to regain himself when Lance didn't let up, instead having him on guard to deflect each punishing limb.

It was only when Lance had taken a step back to breathe, that Shiro was able to thrust himself from the floor and enter into offense. Lance inched backward with each pull, a smile on his lips that never seemed to let up. They were laughing now. The fight didn't appear like it was going to let up any time soon, despite Shiro feeling like his lungs were on fire from how much energy he had to put in, but all fell into final, heavy lidded silence when Lance formed a plan to come from above, giving Shiro just enough notice for his instincts to kick in. A flash, a grunt, two chests heaving against one another in repetitious harmony, hips grinding into the other's to hold his captive steadfast against the far wall from making footwork. Shiro looked down into Lance's glassy eyes full of excitement and fatigue, his arms held tightly above his head in place by Shiro's inhumanly strong Glaran hand. The other, more human appendage hovering stiff by Lance's throat like a silent promise. He was practically breathing Lance's breath.

“That was good.” Lance heaved out between gasps, licking his lips from how dry they'd become. Shiro gave a quick nod, not yet having enough air inside him to verbally agree.

“You move like water,” his voice was airy, but full of praise, “like nothing can trap you.”

Lance smirked and airily chuckled, “Big guys like you never seem to think I can take 'em. When all's fair,” he flicked his lidded gaze up to Shiro's prosthetic that still held him firmly against the wall, “you'd be surprised what I'm capable of adapting to.”

“I'll never doubt you again.” Shiro said, beaming with contentment. His head fell on to Lance's shoulder, resting as he tried to gain himself.

“Don't let go or anything,” Lance then laughed into his ear, making Shiro suddenly aware that yes, he was still holding Lance's hands far above them. His head snapped back as quickly as his hips, letting Lance's body heat retreat. His hand, however, did not remove itself. “That was a joke,” Lance then told him after Shiro went into a silence that didn't include him releasing his hands, “I do actually want you to let me go.”

“Yeah, I,” was all Shiro got out. Something wasn't right. As he stepped back for leverage, he could feel his Glaran arm resisting. Almost like it was cemented in place. He took up with his other hand, circling his prosthetic, and when that failed, he put his foot on the wall to gain even more support, thrusting himself back painfully. What little remained of his skin stretched in the metal and caused him to howl out. “Lance... I can't—I mean, my hand,”

“You can't be serious.” Lance responded, trying to wriggle his wrists from the grip. Shiro watched him flail and tug, even allowed him to use his body for support to yank himself downward. The hand refused to move. Lance grew impatient, suddenly yanking down hard enough to make the sound of bone smacking metal.

“Lance, Lance! Stop, you're going to hurt yourself!”

“Why won't it budge?!” He asked particularly no one but somehow aimed at his leader.

“Your wrists are chafing.”

Lance stopped with a hard exhale. “Has this happened before?” Shiro felt like Lance was searching his face for the butt of a joke. Sadly, there wasn't one to be found.

“I—no.” he replied, equally alarmed and confused. “It's like it's locked up. I can't feel anything or connect with it. Maybe something broke inside. A capacitor or some kind of malfunction.”

“That doesn't explain the death grip.”

Shiro felt himself redden in shame, “I'm not doing this, I _swear_.”He sounded more on edge than he intended. Lance must have heard it because his eyes flicked away to the floor. Now he felt even worse.

“Listen, I'll,” he fumbled, not even sure what to tell Lance, “let's call the team. I'm sure Pidge or Coran could take a look. They'll know what to do.”

“Will it hurt you?” Lance asked.

“It doesn't matter if it does, I mean, one way or another we've got to get you out and I don't want to take my meals plugged into the training deck wall.”Lance nodded at that. Shiro then pressed something lined into the crook of his collar.

“Shiro to Coran; Coran can you hear me? Anyone?

Pidge's voice answered.

“ _Hey Shiro, what'cha need?”_

“Do you guys have an ETA on when you'll be returning?”

“ _Allura is speaking with one of the natives now. Took forever to get past the language barrier. We probably won't be back for a few more hours, give or take.”_ a pause, _“Everything okay?”_

Lance broke in, leaning forward into Shiro's neck, “Shiro's Galran arm broke down. We're a little pinned at the moment.”

“ _Pinned?”_

Shiro laughed weakly, “It's a long story. I don't have the technical known-how to troubleshoot it, but rest assured it's unresponsive. Lance and I are trying to break free, but yeah, it's got us pinned to the wall right now.”

“ _Can you both hold out until we get back or is this more of an emergency than you're conveying?”_

They switched glances at each other, Shiro knowing it wasn't anything particularly crucial even if it was inconvenient. Lance, on the other hand, looked like he was about to throw a fit.

“We can wait it out.” Lance moaned dejectedly at him. “Just head to the training deck as soon as you and the others make it back to the ship. We're not going anywhere.”

“ _Cool. I'll alert the others and send you some relief as soon as we can.”_

“Thanks, over and out”the communication ended. When Shiro returned his eyes back to Lance, he looked like a disappointed child. “I think peace with a native species that can restock our materials is a little more important than de-bugging my arm.”Lance groaned again. Shiro ignored him. “Besides, it might release at any moment.”

“Easy for you to say,” Lance began, “you've got yourself pinned at your own height. This is seriously buckling on my elbows and wrists. And my lefty just went numb.” Shiro tried to adjust himself but could do little to take the pressure off Lance's wrists. Anything he did just put them in closer confines.

“If I could reach something for you to stand on, maybe that would help.”

“Sure, sure,” Lance lazily snickered, “we can just grab the _space_ boxes that we store in the _space_ closet for moments of needing to reach tall _space_ shelves in _space_.”

“Cute.” Shiro deadpanned.

Lance sighed and threw his head back against the wall, “Well, we won't be stuck here too long, right?”

“I'm sure Keith is on his way.”

“Ugh, _Keith_.” Lance sneered. “What's he going to do? Twitter back and forth to the guys about how we're still stuck?”

“There's no service out here, Lance. What do you think I did with my team on Pluto? Update my blog?”

“I'm sure checking up on your neopets is exactly how the Galra managed to sneak up on you.”

Shiro frowned. “That's not funny.”

Lance back tracked and bit his lip, looking away quickly. “Sorry, sorry. Too soon, I get it.”

“No,” Shiro was quick to try and say, but sighed half way through, “I know you're just trying to lighten the mood. It's an endearing trait of yours. Don't worry about it.”

Lance looked at him but Shiro couldn't look back. “It's really not.” He heard him rustle a bit against the wall, “I'm only sticking my foot in my mouth. I'm just, can I be honest with you?”It was a moment before curiosity had him give consent. Not that he didn't want Lance, or any of his team for that matter, to be honest with him.

Lance looked a little embarrassed. “I rarely get to tell you just how amazing you are. How intimidated I am to be a part of a team with you. I mean,” he grumbled to himself, “you're like, my hero, dude. Everyone at the Garrison was always talking about how you obliterated the fighter pilot bars, how it was you that set the all time high before Keith came along. I, you have to understand something about me; talking out of my ass is how I handle being something with you. And making light of anything that happened to you when the Galra had you—that's just, well, it's not who I am. And I don't want you think that of me.”

Shiro blinked, not sure what to say.

“Uh, thanks.” was all he managed.

Lance's face went noticeably red. “I spill my heart out and all you can think to say is 'thanks'?!”

“It's a lot to take in, sorry.”He laughed gently, trying to get Lance to see that he was thankful even if he couldn't form the words. Thankfully, he did, and before long, they were laughing sweetly together.

When a comfortable silence ebbed between them, Shiro reached up to touch Lance's hands still trapped in his iron grip. They were cold and turning a little purple, which worried him.

“We need to elevate you.” He then said. Lance didn't respond, and Shiro looked around to see if there was anything he could use to lift the boy even a little. The training deck used Altean tech that required very little physical attributes, and most of what could be used manifested from that tech and was out of their reach. Shiro looked this way and that, and settled on the fact that nothing was in reach. When he turned to look back at Lance, he took notice of his own belt which gave him an idea.

Without asking first, he moved close up to Lance and snaked an arm around his backside and under his thigh, lifting Lance's leg. Lance gasped seemingly on impulse, his thigh muscle twitching under his grip. Before he could speak, his blue eyes flashing wildly to him, Shiro shushed him with knowing authority.

“If you sit on my hips, we can reduce the pressure on your wrists. I can keep you held up.”Whatever Lance was going to say looked to be caught in his throat. He only hesitated, then let Shiro's hand take grip his thigh again, moving his leg gently around and over Shiro's hip in too slow a fashion, their bodies coming closer in the process.

When his hip met the inner crevice of Lance's thigh, they seemed to just stop. Lance was looking down at it, looking unsure, and perhaps worried he would put too much weight on him, but Shiro knew he could handle sore legs better than coping with having Lance potentially suffer from bursting vessels in his hands. Not to mention he hadn't the faintest idea of what kind of pressure his prosthetic could be doing since Lance didn't appear bothered by purple fists.

“Lance,” he called. Lance didn't seem to hear him. He tried again, this time Lance's head snapping back to stare at him, like he had been miles away. Shiro smiled weakly and gestured to his arm on the wall. “I... your other leg, I can't,” Lance seemed to understand immediately and leaned back, letting his curled leg tighten around his waist as he slowly moved his other into position. Shiro tried not to watch, but in their position, it was hard not to. He slid forward, meeting Lance's body until they appeared to “lock” in place. Shiro bent his knees to better hold Lance against the wall, using his free arm for more support, then using his hips, he moved gently upwards, letting Lance rise until his elbows and hands seemed to go a little more slack.

Then they just... stopped.

Lance was still looking at their hips, his abdomen shuddering a bit through his clothing from what Shiro could tell. His weight felt a bit uneven so Shiro quickly bucked himself forward moving Lance up a little higher on him. Something escaped Lance just then and he looked at him with some kind of desperation written about his face.

“You were slipping.” Shiro assured.

Lance's face did not change. “We tell absolutely _no one_ about this, you got it?”

Shiro gave a nod, only just in that moment actually realising how compromising the situation was. It didn't bother him, however. Doing right by his comrade was more important to him than appearances. It did seem to bother Lance, however. He smiled meekly, adjusting a little more and trying to catch Lance's eye.

“Hey, when you're in crazy situations you have to resort to crazy things, yeah? Nothing to be ashamed of. I mean, Holt and Matt, we did more cuddling than we would have liked to when our transport heat cut out!” He forced a laugh to try and get Lance to relax. It appeared to work as Lance's legs loosened a little around him.

“We're a team,” Shiro reminded him, although he knew Lance didn't need reminding, “we look out for each other. And we can—we'll stop once we know the others are here.” Lance nodded quickly, still averting his gaze.

“You don't have to talk to me like that,” Lance then finally said, “I'm not a kid. I've done my share of weirdness with Hunk and Pidge.”

“Oh?” Shiro was genuinely curious by that, especially since Lance seemed to be the very last to realise Pidge was, in actuality, a girl.

“Yeah,” Lance went on, rolling his head into the crook of his arm, “they don't exactly allow conjugal visits back at the Garrison.”

Shiro blurt out a hard laugh that shook Lance up and down, “Is that what the cadets think? See it as a prison?”

“Being so far away from family, it may as well be,” Lance replied darkly, “joining up to sweep across space where the nearest call is hours of lag behind... I mean, yeah we get letters and all that, you know that. But I guess the reality of just being away from planet side, it really does almost feel like a prison.”

“Homesick.” Shiro replied lowly.

“Yeah.”Lance agreed. “So we just look into each other for what we can't get, you know? The touches, the feelings of family—of—of bonding. Hero worshipping and idolising. It's all weird when you think about. Starving for anything you can feel. Can touch.”

Shiro heard him. He heard him clearly, but couldn't look away from Lance even though the boy wasn't looking at him and instead had his eyes closed and forehead against his inner arm. He was locked where he stood having also felt Lance's punctuation on needing to touch. Maybe Lance knew it, or maybe he didn't, but as he had slipped those words to him, Shiro had felt Lance's hips begin to gyrate into him, nudging their bodies obscenely close. His voice caught in his throat, his grip tightening on Lance's thigh as his comrade pushed and dipped his hips into him, causing a deliciously erotic sensation.

Somebody made a groan, and maybe it had been him, but it was then Lance's eyes glanced over to him through heavy lids. Maybe he was checking Shiro's reaction? Maybe he was asking some kind of bizarre permission? Shiro wasn't sure, but regardless, he couldn't give an answer. And below him, with Lance's eyes locked on his, he felt a hardness grind into him that made him let out an audible gasp.

“Lance—I,”

Lance cut him off, “We're just doing crazy things in a crazy situation,” he turned and eyed Shiro hungrily, meeting him with another low and delicious movement into their bodies, “right? That's what you said?” Lance looked as unsure as he felt inside. Something was knotting deep in his gut that Shiro wasn't sure what to make of.

His human hand twitched nervously under Lance's thigh. He swallowed, beginning to move it away and gently try to push Lance's legs from around him.

“We still have to work together after this.” Shiro told him, although he was more or less telling the seats of their pants as he finally made contact with them, seeing the bulging form of something private to Lance meeting his growing and unintended arousal. Lance refused to move, tightening his thighs.

“I know.” was all he replied.

“This isn't exactly what I meant—“

“I know.” Lance replied again, this time with more air, having Shiro barely see out of the corner of his eye Lance's body rise and fall from the growing pace in his breathing.

Shiro swallowed, breaking his gaze away from their now hard dicks frottaging in slow little gyrations. “You could regret it—I could regret it.”

Lance looked him hazily in the eye, mouth slightly agape as he licked his lips and whispered, “I know.”

The silence between them filled with nothing but paced breathing. Shiro swallowed again, not sure why. They stared at each other for what felt like ages until, _“Fuck it all,”_ Shiro gasped to himself and punctuated it with a hard thrust of his hips, grinding their hardnesses teasingly more close as he leaned over and met Lance's mouth with his own.

It lasted too long, and was simply lips on lips. Just closed eyes and hearing each other's breath through their noses as their heart beats picked up. Any rational thought was left forgotten. A moment of circumstance. And it wasn't like anyone had to know about it. It didn't mean anything, did it? It was just happenstance. Just like how Lance tipped his head and opened his mouth, saying on his lips for Shiro to do it, to fuck him right there, right on the wall. Whispering sweet nothings of how he'll tell no one, and they never have to do it again. To go hard. Go all out.

“You don't even have to make me cum,” Lance breathed into him softly, receiving a wet, open mouthed kiss that broke in and out before taking him again, this time more sure of themselves and deepening the kiss. He pulled back minutely, tasting Lance and inhaling him, “—just fill me with _yours_.” Lance groaned into another kiss, Shiro's pants were as tight as they could be against him.

He didn't ask permission, didn't need to. Shiro made quick work to fumble Lance's buckle open. It was terribly hard with one hand and Lance having none at all to help. He desperately struggled with it, Lance making breathy moans to encourage him, driving him crazy with promises of how he feels _hot_ and _wet_ inside and how he'll make Shiro feel so good—just get it open—unwrap him—“ _take me”_.

The buckle snapped, and Shiro tore it from the loops, tossing it to the floor in haste to give Lance what they both wanted. Lance lifted his hips to help Shiro pull the fabric aside and down—down—opening Lance like a flower ripe for him to sip his nectar.

The thick scent of sweat and precum met them, having them both gasp as the cool air met Lance's body and Shiro could see the boy's hardness attempt to break free from the clothy confines of woven cotton. With a smile, he teasingly ran a finger down the clothed length, reveling in the sounds Lance made for him.

He parted the cloth, taking one side gripped firmly in his hand while he reached to kiss Lance, painfully begging the boy to look at him. And when Lance did, he grimaced in surprise and pain as Shiro tore his garments open, cutting into the side of his thigh until it finally gave way, exposing Lance to the air. Shiro took Lance's mewling painful cries into his mouth, swallowing them while a gentle finger rubbed at the sore flesh. Lance sighed into it, forgiving him.

Not one to wait, and looking as though Lance didn't want to either, Shiro lowly ordered Lance to hold himself steady on his hips, taking the moment to drop his zipper, move his own fabric aside and pull himself free. He already knew Lance had watched, seeing Lance's own dick move slowly more upwards towards his navel; and below Lance's bottom, he stroked himself in earnest, teasing Lance how he won't be able to see what he's going to be taking and to “imagine it”. Lance hissed desperately, and so Shiro took Lance's mouth again, this time being as wet as he could be, forcing their mouths to salivate more than they wanted to, both of them humming and moaning their eagerness. Then he pulled back with a soft, wet _pop_ , taking the leaking trail of their kiss to collect it in his hand.

“This will get me in,” Shiro panted huskily, “but once dried up, it'll all be friction.”

Lance smirked at him and bit his lip with an added wink, “Make me feel it for days. Don't disappoint me now.” And that was all he needed, his head too foggy to process the details. Slicking the exposed head of his dick and some of the length below, he moved Lance's hips down until he had an angle he could work with. He pressed into Lance's opening, loving the way it pulled back in protest and hesitation. He needed to work fast as the make-shift lubricant was beginning to dry up. No time to enjoy the sights and smells despite Lance calling softly for him to just do it and get inside him, as though a lock desperately needed a fitted key.

Shiro made as much leverage as he could, having Lance brace against the wall so he could guide himself in. It was hell. Lance's muscles restricted the intrusion and forced hard friction on Shiro. He pushed, hard, working himself in as Lance made him pause every now and again to realign-yeah there—and get through it, just do it—make it fit.

After a few cautionary thrusts, finally Lance's muscles gave way, letting Shiro slide in half way, both of them calling out from the pressure and sudden warmth. Shiro remained still, letting Lance adjust. His insides felt so good even wrapped only half around him. He couldn't wait to push in deeper and feel that same tightness everywhere, hear Lance pant and grunt as they found a rhythm. Then it happened, Lance giving the word for him to continue. He acknowledged quickly, pushing in as deep as he could go in one painful thrust. Lance cursed loudly, Shiro leaned over him to place soft kisses around his neck and face, telling him how good he was doing and how great he felt. Like fire, consuming his every stimuli point. He moved in and out, slowly, but with precision and Lance's delicate innards in mind, kissing Lance every time he made anything less of a pleasured noise to assure him that it still felt amazing. He would go slower even if Lance didn't tell him to, wanting to make sure that every part of them felt the vibrations of their movement. He hushedly promised Lance that he would make him feel as good as he did. He aimed to keep it. Pay it forward.

As they worked up a pace they could both enjoy, Shiro let Lance slip from his grip with a request for the boy to hold himself level. Lance watched him through his lashes, making hitched noises as Shiro stroked along his pelvis to tease his heated skin. Each finger moved along a path of least resistance until they entered the patch of wiry hairs dusting Lance's lower abdomen. Lance's dick, which had gone soft from the rough start, was slowly beginning to peak from the tightened skin as it grew hard once more. His balls hiccoughed up and down as they tried to understand whatever Shiro was doing and maybe playing with the thought of what he would do. Shiro loved how they moved below Lance's shaft, quickly aching up from anticipation before lowering gently, still tight in their scrotum. He ran a finger over them, enjoying how they moved from wanting to force Lance to cum.

Two fingers was all he used, taking the tip of Lance between forefinger and thumb, putting slight pressure to further support the hardening length. Lance made a noise and rolled his hips.

Maybe it was the moment itself, or the lack of energy he had allowing him to think properly that made Shiro half say to himself how he wished he could take Lance into his mouth. Taste the salty and unpleasing precum for himself.

Lance's dick stiffened, a groan flowing with it. Perhaps he had said it out loud.

Shiro stopped thrusting for a few beats, mostly to allow himself to catch his breath and relax his thighs, but also so he could linger his sight on how beautiful their connection was. Lance's legs felt amazing about him, with his military-hardened backside giving a wonderful contrast to how sofy and gentle his insides were. It was hard for him to tell where his coarse hair ended and began meeting with Lance's dusty surfaces, that that was how deep inside his comrade he was to meld away their defining attributes.

His attention broke from Lance's snark laughter, He looked up with a curious smile and saw Lance beaming at him. “What?”

“You're such a romantic.” Lance told him.

“And that's... bad?”

“Military men don't usually gawk at their fuck toy.”

Shiro frowned, shaking his head in empathy. “Is that what you think you are? What you think you're worth?”

Lance raised his brows, “Oh, come on, man.” he rolled his eyes, “If anything, I think _too_ highly of myself.”

Shiro nodded, but to what Lance said. He leaned forward and began sucking on his throat, all the while curling his fingers gingerly about Lance's dick. “I would hope that you do, if I'm to be honest here.” Lance shuddered underneath him as he took a gentle grip. His tongue licked at Lance's collar, moving up until he could reach the shell of his ear, breathing into it warmly, “You're not just some fuck toy, Lance. Not to our team. Not to me.”

“Maybe that's what I want to be.” Lance groaned out as Shiro licked his ear. “Have someone pilot _me_ around for a change.”

Shiro chuckled lowly, “That's not being a fuck toy. That's just using sex as a means to escape for a bit.” While he said that, he began to stroke Lance up and down his length. “And really, it's normal for people like us. You said it yourself; being so far away makes you want to feel—to touch anything. This helps.”

Lance bucked into his palm, making a delightful noise and shuddering gasp. He could feel the muscles tighten around his dick still deep inside him.

“It does.” he gasped, lolling his head against the wall, “It does.” It felt like Lance was about to say more but had instead opted to moan pleasantly. Shiro stroked him painfully slow, making Lance want to buck and squirm for more friction. It was a beautiful sight on his face, watching Lance's blue eyes fade behind his lids and his mouth making shapes to his audible and noiseless sounds. Nothing seemed more satisfying to Shiro than knowing he was making Lance feel this way, so he picked up his pace and strengthened his grip, then readied his knees and hips for a replay.

“How does it feel?” Shiro asked him, and Lance choked a little between gasps.

“Full.” He managed to say.

Shiro thrust himself up and out, then slowly back in. He did this a few more times, gauging Lance's reaction.

“And this?”

Lance moaned softly, heaving his chest, “Like I want to piss and cum despite being only able to pick one or the other.” Shiro laughed at that and picked up his pace, started to slam into Lance and match his stroking in time.

“Let's see which happens first,” he playfully said, moving his dick up inside Lance's body in a direction he knew would put pressure on his bladder. Lance bucked and smacked his head on the wall.

“Shiro, I swear to quiznak if you make me piss I'll kick you in your fucking perfect face!”

He laughed again, dragging out his rhythm to massage Lance's innards in apology. “Okay, okay,” Shiro chuckled, admiring Lance's reddened face. He pushed in and wriggled, enjoying the heat of the boy's body, then pulled out with a low noise. He wrapped tighter around Lance, thumbing over the vein and mixing with the precum beading at the top. Lance approved with a sigh.

“Let's try to cum together.” Shiro then said, but Lance only made an airy noise in response. Warning him that he was going to pick up pace, Shiro began to move in and out a little faster, still trying to focus his grip and speed on Lance. After a few moments, the slapping of their bodies began to sound into the room meeting with Lance's grunts as he hit the wall.

Lance called out many obscenities and how much he needed this, his breath being knocked from him every time he hit the wall. If Shiro was worried that he was hurting him, it was hard to tell with how much louder Lance was becoming. So he took it as all being well, picked up his pace and rammed into Lance as hard as he could. Lance cried out in approval, and curses, holding Shiro tighter with his legs.

“Fuck—yes—just like—that!”

 _In—_ “Lance, I think—” _out—_ “I'm going to—” _in—out—in—oh god—out—_

Lance groaned, lifting his hips from the hand on him.

They both called, gasping and saying the other's name as the orgasm over took them. Shiro stuttered a few more thrusts in, his body tensing up from the shock waves as Lance's muscles convulsed over him, tightening in time with spasms of cum leaking from Lance's length. They breathed in heavily, eyes closed, Shiro leaning over Lance as though he would collapse without his Galra prosthetic holding him up.

It was many moment before they came back to themselves. Shiro had slipped out some time during that, taking note of how red and swollen Lance's anus appeared.

“I apologise if I caused any pain or fissures.”

Lance shrugged his shoulders. “Happens, man.”

“Are you okay?”

Lance nodded, biting his lip as he worked his legs down off Shiro. Some joints popped, but nothing painful showing in his face.

“What about you?” Lance asked, “Your arm still stuck?”

Shiro gave it a small tug, “Unfortunately, yes.”

Lance flashed him a smile, “At least we know a way to pass the time.”

“Lance!” but Shiro was smiling too.

He looked at Lance's belt on the floor and the torn fabric, not to mention the mess they had made. “Going to be a little difficult explaining what all this is to the others.”

Again Lance shrugged, “So don't explain it.”

“Or,” Shiro added, picking up Lance's belt with his foot where he then traded it to his free hand and began to re-work it into the laces, “we can clean up a bit and at least look moderately bored when they arrive.”

“Pssht, you're no fun.” But Lance found his jaw taken in gently by Shiro's fingers, leading him into a soft, passionate kiss.

While the others would suspect, no one would learn of the events that led to Lance's destroyed clothing or the high levels of serotonin and endorphins both experienced; and while it couldn't help explain what happened to Shiro's prosthetic, it did explain their good moods for the rest of the week.

#

#

End

 


End file.
